


Larat's Horrible, Terrible, No-Good Very Bad Day

by DiscipleofTwilight



Category: A Practical Guide to Evil - erraticerrata
Genre: Assistants are not Test Subjects, Cat Larat, Lesser Lesser Footrest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 23:45:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17293601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DiscipleofTwilight/pseuds/DiscipleofTwilight
Summary: Cat loans Larat to Masego as an assistant with a project.  Masego still needs work on that whole, "Callow =/= Praes" thing.Or, Larat is turned into a cat and minor hijinks ensue.





	Larat's Horrible, Terrible, No-Good Very Bad Day

_“Fourteen - When dealing with a villainous band, kill the mage first.  If not, you can be assured that you will either have to extract a member of your band from one of the various layers of hell, Arcadia, or - if they’re of the testing type - undo some traumatic experiment.”_ _  
_ **_Two Hundred Heroic Axioms_ **

“Masego,” I said calmly, “tell me what in the  _hells_ I’m looking at.”

“It’s actually not a result of any form of diabolism or associated with the hells,” the Hierophant began, adjusting his blindfold, “this is a simple test on the limits of fae and their ability to physically shift their -” he saw the look I was giving him, and cut himself off with a mutter about plebian explanations, “I wanted to know how far a Fae could be pushed to change form, and since you were reluctant, I looked elsewhere.”

Behind us, I could barely hear Vivienne’s stifled chuckle over the sound of Archer’s raucous laughter.  Choosing to ignore the gallery, I reached down and picked up the cat on Masego’s table by the scruff of it’s neck.  One wintery blue eye glared at me impotently, and it batted a paw at Masego with a hiss. I turned to the mage, raising an eyebrow, “I loaned Larat to you as a _temporary assistant,_ Masego.  Not a test subject.”

Masego tilted his head, “ . . . there’s a difference?”

There was a loud _thunk_ as Archer toppled off of the table she’d been perched on, rolling back and forth holding her sides.  I tossed the transformed fae prince in her general direction and pretended not to take a vindictive sort of pleasure in the startled squawk as he landed claws-first.  Taking a deep breath, I placed both hands against the table and leveled a _Look_ at Hierophant, “Masego,” I said, “what do we keep talking about?”

“Complaints about your nobility, the Empire, and Procer, regretting that you didn’t kill Akua during First Liesse and subsequently trap yourself on an interdimensional angel corpse with no exit, rather unnecessary comments about my moral compass or in your opinion a lack thereof . . .” Masego trailed off as I dropped my face into a hand, “Should I take that as a sign not to continue?  We have a rather diverse series of ongoing topics that I could delve into.”

“The moral compass is the most immediately relevant,” I muttered, already wishing that alcohol still had an affect on me, “the main focus of those discussions being . . . ?”

“. . . that Father and Papa did not bother instilling such a hindrance from a young age?”

I formed a block of ice and set it against my forehead to ward off an oncoming headache - and considering I shouldn’t be able to have those any longer, I wanted to reconsider this entire conversation.   _Unfortunately,_ I needed my treacherous lieutenant with opposable thumbs so that he could continue stabbing the various Heroes who continued to crop up.  “Don’t use your assistants as test subjects, Masego. Especially when they’re my - admittedly disloyal - vassals. Undo this.”

There was a pause, and I lifted my head, squinting suspiciously, “You _can_ undo this, right?”

“I _could_ ,” Masego began uncertainly, “except . . . I would need him here to do it.”

Wait, what?  I became suddenly aware that the sounds of laughter had ended, and turned to survey the rest of the room, “Masego, did Archer and Vivienne kidnap the commander of my Wild Hunt?”

“Kidnap requires a human element, which even in his natural state, Larat would not qualify.  ‘Steal’ would be more accurate, in which case, yes, they did.”

Because why wouldn’t they.

* * *

 

“ _Thief!_ ”

In a normal palace, that sort of exclamation would have had the alarms raised and gates barred within minutes.  In mine, it meant Vivienne had done something.

Again.

The Callowan turned away from the balcony with an expression that, on someone else, might have been taken as innocent.  I, however, knew her, and so knew it meant she was trying very hard not to grin, “Yes, Queen Catherine? How may I be of service?”

“Where’s Larat?”  I demanded, “I threw him at Archer, and the three of you vanished.  Hakram and Masego are chasing her down, so where is he?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” Vivienne said with a little smile, “but I guess I could give you a hint . . .”

I raised an eyebrow, “what’s the catch?”

“There’s this _lovely_ set of silverware I’ve had my eye on for a little while, how about you make sure I get to keep it, and I’ll tell you.”

“Sure, whatever.  Now, the treacherous lieutenant?”

Vivienne leisurely pointed, and I followed her finger, eyes getting narrower and narrower until I locked on to a tiny sliver of Fae energy in . . . in . . .

Oh gods that was the training grounds for the sappers.

“Robber,” I groaned, “tell me you two _didn’t_.”

“I had nothing to do with it,” Vivienne said, already waltzing away, “have fun finding the treacherous lieutenant!”

* * *

 

Years of war had finally gotten Masego into a semblance of shape - he was only panting as we completed the mile-long walk to the training ground.  Even before we came into sight, I could hear the foreboding sound of goblins - specifically, Robber, which was even more worrying - cackling, and the occasional sound of a crossbow being fired.

I picked up the pace, rounded the corner ready to shout at the Lesser Lesser Footrest . . . and stopped dead.

Robber’s cohort was gathered around in the center of their training ground, several holding crossbows.  In the center of the mob was a cleared area, occupied only by the tiny black cat that Masego had transformed Larat into - who apparently had retained enough power to grow his wings - and one of Robber’s officers.

“Afternoon, Boss,” Robber said, grinning menacingly as he scuttled up to me, “come for a turn?”

“Robber, what am I looking at?”

He looked over his shoulder at the mob, then back to me, his grin widening, “Just a little training exercise for the boys.  That cat of Hierophant’s is like a goblin who was fed particularly vicious rocks - we’ve been sending folks in one at a time and taking bets how long they last.  Want to place a wager? You could net a hundred gold if Borer manages to catch him.”

Of course.  My sappers were handed a homicidal transformed fae prince, and they started a betting ring around him.  I glanced at Masego, “Anything from the Observatory?”

He shook his head, “I would have been alerted if so.”

Hmm . . . well, that _did_ mean we didn’t have any immediate Hero problems . . . and even if so, Masego or Archer could accompany me in place of the Treacherous Lieutenant.  I shrugged, and formed a seat of ice, “Put me down for thirty gold that Borer’s face gets clawed.”

Robber’s cackling was, ironically, one of the least stress-inducing things I’d heard all day.

* * *

 

“Never again,” were the first words out of Larat’s mouth when Masego’s spell wore off, and the Fae - normally pale-skinned - was positively chalky, his normally inscrutable self-assured expression replaced by wide eyes and trembling hands, “My Queen, _please_ never subject me to this man’s whims again.  I know not what I did to deserve such a punishment, but simply tell me and it will never happen again.”

I forced myself not to blink in surprise, “I’m sure you don’t need me to say what was done.  Remember to keep a closer eye on your minions in the future, or Masego just might need a _helper_ again.”

“I would sooner fight the Last Night a thousand times in a row than endure that again,” Larat said, shuddering, “their eyes, the teeth - the commander put me in a _jar of eyeballs_.  I thought myself a master of torture, but this . . . give me any command before subjecting me to that again, I beg you.”

Huh, so even the former Prince of Nightfall wasn’t immune to Robber’s . . . charms.  Good to know. There was a slight ping, and warmth blossomed in my pocket. I pulled out the charmed notebook that Masego had given me to inform me when the Observatory detected Heroes, and opened it to the newest entry.

_Stalwart Paladin, Gallant Brigand, Red Mage.  Mercantis, headed towards Dormer._

I glanced up at the Fae, “Good. Well, pack your things, we’re headed to Dormer.”

* * *

 

Elsewhere in the palace, a very confused Brandon Talbot was staring at the dining table in his suite - more specifically, the distinct lack of dining implements, and the slip of paper impaled to the table.

_By royal decree, Brandon Talbot, your silverware has been requisitioned for use by the Thief.  Have a nice day._


End file.
